


Snow Day

by Anorlost



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M, Snowball Fights, based on my childhood, hux takes snowball fights very seriously, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-10 17:32:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6997981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anorlost/pseuds/Anorlost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As part of a morale boosting event, General Hux and Kylo Ren must face off in a snowball fight on Starkiller Base.  Will Kylo's superior strength win him the day, or does Hux have a trap or five up his sleeve?  </p><p>Either way, it ends in cocoa, lost bets and irate cuddling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CountOfEight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountOfEight/gifts).



> I wrote a fic involving snow and nobody fucked it! It can be done! 
> 
> Hux's traps and snow fort are based on things ME AND MY SIBLINGS ACTUALLY DID. We grew up in a very snowy place with long winters, so we got pretty creative. My childhood in my beloved frozen tundra taught me how to turn a sapling into a catapult, garbage pales are the ultimate fort making tool, tunneling under snow is stupid and dangerous but very effective, and when all else fails, threaten to beat your opponent with a shovel. (Also don't do it in front of your mom or she will be pissed.) 
> 
> Also, gifting this work to my beloved beta countofeight. This is the first fic we worked on together and they have been kind enough to put up with my insanity and squick ever since. You are my brotha from anotha motha and sista from anotha mista!

“It’s this or a Sexy Officer of the Month calendar.”

Events and tradition was important for morale. If the crew and troops were miserable their productivity dropped, and with the base and the weapon it contained so close to completion, they could not afford to fall behind schedule because of moody workers. So in addition to permitting the usual holidays and socials, every year the crew got to propose an event by popular vote. Within reason of course. Anything too crass and obscene was promptly pulled, typically leaving innocent little frivolities. Last year the crew had voted for General Hux and Captain Phasma to have an arm wrestling match, from which Phasma naturally emerged as victor and Hux’s arm emerged half broken. The year before they had voted for the senior members of staff operate something called a ‘Host Club.’ The year before that was the all-day pancake breakfast served by the senior staff.

This year, the winning idea had been a snowball fight between General Hux and Lord Kylo Ren, with the sexy calendar as a close second.

“I thought we had made it clear that no requests involving Ren were to be permitted,” said Hux, looking over the statistics. Kylo Ren was technically senior staff, but as an independent contractor and not an official member of the First Order military, he should not have been involved in this. Hux also did not enjoy the idea of interrupting whatever exactly it was Ren did to challenge him to a silly snowball fight.

“I’m not sure how it slipped through sir,” replied Captain Phasma, “We could veto the decision…”

“Seems we’ll have to,” said Hux, slightly disappointed. He was not looking forward to being in a pinup calendar. Glancing up at Phasma he sighed, “The numbers are close enough, a veto shouldn’t cause too much disappointment.”

“There’s,” began Phasma, “Actually a betting pool. The winning suggestion was leaked somehow.”

Hux sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, “So a veto would be counter intuitive to boosting morale. Wonderful. So which of us is going to knock on Ren’s door and invite him to this folly?”

“What folly?”

Hux turned to the meeting room door. Ren had strode in, wearing his full, ebony armour and Hux could have sworn he felt the room’s temperature drop. For a few moments the only sound that could be heard was the sound of Ren’s filtered breathing. He looked from Hux to Phasma and then repeated, “What folly?”

He sounded angry. With his mind reading powers it was likely that he had somehow picked up the details from someone on Starkiller Base. Hux remained seating, still pinching his nose and closed his eyes. He could feel a migraine coming on. He would have to take something for that later. Phasma picked up a datapad from the table and handed it to Ren, “It’s customary for the crew to hold an annual vote on a challenge or activity to be undertaken by senior members of staff.”

“Last I checked _Captain_ , I am not a member of your crew,” spat Ren, tossing the pad back on the table, “I don’t want to be involved in any of your foolishness. I am not a performing Bantha. In the future you will leave me out of this.”

Well, that settles that, Hux thought to himself. They had to make changes on account of a technicality. It would be Ren’s fault. If there was any backlash he could redirect it towards Ren. That was convenient. It did not happen often, but Hux loved it when little problems suddenly solved themse-

“However…”

Hux peered up from the corner of his eye as Ren approached him, leering down at him through the black tinted visor on his mask. He put a hand on the back of the chair and Hux lowered his hand, wanting it to be in a position to block or strike if Ren suddenly had another outburst. He could feel the knight’s excited, trembling grip on the chair harden as he leaned down, inches from Hux’s face, his filtered breathing louder than ever.

“I understand it gives me an opportunity to humiliate you in front of your own men,” said Ren, “A fitting payback for roping me into your stupidity General.”

It had not been his idea, Hux thought to himself. He would rather avoid the whole thing. He had better things to do with his time. If this had not been an established tradition for far longer than the tenure of his command so far, he would have dropped the whole damned thing. Now that Ren seemed willing it was inevitable. Two of the most powerful men in the First Order were going to lob snow at each other for the amusement of the rabble. Lovely. If there was one benefit to this, Hux might be able to work out some aggression and shove snow down Ren’s ridiculous collar.

“Then, perhaps we should discuss rules of engagement,” said Phasma.

“Of course, the General will need a handicap,” scoffed Ren, taking a seat beside Hux.

Hux glared at Ren through the corner of his eye. If he was allowed a sniper rifle and a proper scope, Ren would not last a second on the field. He reminded himself of that in order to stay seated and keep his temper in check.

“No weapons,” said Phasma, beginning to type into the datapad, “I believe using the Force should be off limits.”

“If he’s to have a fighting chance,” said Ren, leaning on the table and watching Hux with a predatory gaze, “Otherwise he’d be nothing but a wamprat in a rancor’s clutches.”

“Will we be given time to make preparations?” asked Hux coolly, refusing to allow Ren to get to him, “Or are we just going to run at each other tossing handfuls of frozen water?”

“That depends. Lord Ren, would you like time to prepare?” asked Phasma, glancing up from her typing.

“What sort of preparations would you need General? Time to write a lovely little speech?” asked Ren, his voice laden with false concern.

“Building fortifications, mainly,” said Hux.

“Provided we can use whatever equipment or powers at our disposal to make them,” said Ren, before disdainfully adding, “By _ourselves_. You can’t use your men to build your weapons and machines for you in this fight, General.”

“Are we limited in materials we can use in the forts themselves?” asked Hux, unshaken by the comment.

“Nothing metal or electronic,” Ren replied.

“However, can we use any tools to build our fortifications?” asked Hux.

Phasma glanced up. She had not expected either of them to show much interest in the event. Perhaps she should not have underestimated their rivalry. Glancing down she continued to outline the rules, “No weapons or powers are to be used in the battle. Preparations for the battle may begin twenty four hours before the fight is scheduled to commence and both parties may use any powers or equipment at their disposal to prepare. Tools may be employed in the battle provided they do not make contact with the opposing party’s person. In other words General, if you have a shovel, you may not hit Lord Ren with it.”

“Time limit?” asked the General.

“Let’s keep it under an hour. It won’t take long to crush you.”

“Careful Ren. Pride before a fall.”

Phasma thanked whatever deity was watching that she had a helmet. The situation was so ridiculous she could not help grinning. It was like minding a pair of little boys. For a moment she almost forgot who the two men in front of her were two of the most powerful people in the Galaxy, able to bring death and destructions to millions with a word or thought.

“But we need to make this interesting General,” said Ren, still watching, “Let’s have a bet. When you lose this pathetic game of yours, I’ll have you make one of your pretty speeches, to the whole crew. I’ll write some interesting material for you to recite. I’d love to hear you announce, ‘I’m Kylo Ren’s little bitch,’ with that lovely voice of yours, among other things.”

Hux glared, meeting Ren’s gaze without flinching, “And should I prove victorious, you’ll spit polish my boots. Both pairs, two coats each. And you’ll do it on the bridge.”

Ren let out a short, scoffing laugh before he rose, “Your spirit is admirable General, however…”

Ren reached over and gripped Hux’s arm, his large hand nearly encircling the slighter man’s bicep. He gave it a squeeze as Hux instinctively flexed his arm. He continued his mockery, “In a contest of strength and endurance you have no chance.”

“You will remove your hand,” said Hux smoothly.

Ren removed his hand, only to slide the back of his fingers up Hux’s arm, over his shoulder, up his neck, and lightly brushed his clean shaven cheek for good measure. He let out another short, staccato laugh before striding out of the room. Hux leaned over the table, his hands clenched around each other and shaking with quiet rage as he looked across at Phasma. He let out a sigh.

“I hate that man.”

Phasma resisted a chuckle, “If it’s any consolation sir, we know.”

* * *

 

Kylo surveyed the terrain that had been marked out for their contest. He did not need twenty four hours to build a ‘fort’ for the upcoming ‘battle.’ He doubted he even needed ten. Having spent years of his life training with a lightsaber, he was certain his throwing arm would be better than Hux’s. All he needed was high ground, perhaps a trench for good measure, then all he would have to do was toss snow down the slope. The General’s bright hair would make an excellent target against the snow, as would his skin when the cold and ice turned it pink.

The area that had been selected was a nearly flat clearing with freshly fallen snow. Enormous coniferous trees surrounded them. They were allowed to retreat into the forest, but Kylo doubted he would, or that he would allow the General to do so. He wanted to hold him, squirming, face down in white powder in full view of everyone under his command. He thought of all the humiliating things he could do when he finally had Hux in his grasp and it thrilled him. He delighted in imagining how Hux would cry out, maybe even squeal when he had snow forced down his clothes or ground into his face.

Someone approached. Kylo recognized the red hair out of the corner of his eye. He did not have to turn to see who it was.

He looked up at the treeline and stretched out a hand. He commanded the Force around them to surround the snow, lifting it from the branches on his side of the pitch and dropping it to the ground. There was his slope. With another, admittedly labour intensive, sweep he drew up the snow on the ground, forming a trench and piling it on top of his hill. There, he was finished. Ren panted slightly, not having expected the snow to be quite so heavy. It was still easier than lifting a TIE Fighter or X-Wing though. The whole process took less than five minutes.

He glanced over at Hux, pink cheeked already, huddled over a datapad, letting out white puffs of breath as he glanced about and occasionally typed something. How precious. The General was actually trying to come up with a strategy. That was all well and good for armies and ships, but in a one on one fight all that really mattered was one man’s strength against another’s. Clever thinking was useful, but the silly contest rendered it useless. Hux was not allowed a weapon. He was physically weaker and would have to come well into Kylo’s range to hit him. He would tire more quickly. The only way the fight could end was with the General squirming pathetically in his grasp.

He passed close to Hux, examining what he had written. Hux looked up, glowering as usual, before he went back to ignoring the knight. Ren looked down. He was looking up the load baring strength of various cables. Ren let out a huff of laughter. That was Hux’s solution to everything. Build something. Not that it would do him much good now.

Ren settled himself behind Hux and pointed over the slighter man’s shoulder to the middle of the field, “That’s where I’m going to hold you down, face first, and not let you up again unless you beg, General.”

“If I were face down I wouldn’t be able to breathe. And if I can’t breathe how exactly do you expect me to beg?” asked Hux stoically, “It’s physically impossible to speak if there’s no air in your lungs. Not to mention snow would muffle any sound that was produced.”

Ren curled his lip behind his mask. He was not sure what he had been expecting. Trust General Hux not to go down without a fight and a snippy remark. Ren resisted the urge to shove Hux down then and there, “Enjoy your sarcasm while you can, General. I won’t allow you to use it when you address the entire base and tell them you’re a cock slut.”

Hux’s cheeks reddened a little more deeply. Ren’s grin returned. So General Hux was not completely unflappable. His fingers had paused their tapping long enough for Ren to notice before he continued his work. Some mathematical equation. Ren did not understand it, nor did he care. He continued, “You’re so good at writing speeches General. Tell me which is more gripping, ‘I love the feel of cock in my ass’ or ‘I moan like a Twi’lek slave girl during sex’?”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” asked Hux curtly.

“Or how about, ‘I love to moan like a Twi’lek slave girl _when_ there’s cock in my ass,’” suggested Kylo.

“They’re all equally idiotic. Make sure you can spit polish properly. I don’t want to redo some shoddy, half-witted beginner’s attempt,” mumbled Hux.

Hux’s resilience was almost endearing. If the man was not such a massive thorn in Ren’s side, antagonizing and one upping him every chance he got, he might have found it in himself to like Hux. Yes, if Hux would only learn his place, realize his inferiority, show proper deference, Ren thought he might have liked the General immensely. It was a shame such lovely, delicate features were wasted on a man who did nothing but scowl and glower. Especially his eyes, which were caught somewhere perfectly between blue and green like an ocean squall. With them attached to Hux’s face, Ren had to hate them out of pure principle. Such a waste.

“Don’t stay out too long General. I won’t have you blaming fatigue for a lack of resistance,” said Ren, turning on his heels.

Hux scowled at the datapad before muttering under his breath, “Kriffing-asshole-son-of-a-bitch…”

* * *

 

Twenty-four hours passed. The whole crew knew that Hux, the infamous workaholic, had taken leave to prepare. Bets were being laid, mostly in Ren’s favor. Despite having seen the rules and information about the contest Phasma had sent out to all units, Ren was the favorite to win. In a purely physical contest, as much as the General was admired and respected, it seemed obvious that Ren was stronger. Also, all of the information about Hux’s battle and simulation records showed that he was best at long range combat and strategy. Hardly something that would aid him if Kylo Ren got a hold of him.

The bets shifted slightly when rumours started spreading. Hux had commandeered a bulldozer and a massive drill. Hux had inquired after the use of a water tanker. Hux was seen dragging a massive coil of rope out of a warehouse. Hux had asked after lumber jacking equipment that would suit his height and weight. Hux had stolen half a dozen waste bins from accounting. The list went on. Still, nearly ten minutes before the contest Kylo Ren was still the expected victor. No matter how much effort General Hux put into building his snow fortress, he would have to come out of it eventually and fight Ren head on.

It was an impressive fortress, Ren had to admit. It looked like a little castle, fashioned with waste bin-sized ice bricks with two trenches in front, both coated with treacherous ice. He had also taking the precaution of removing snow from the trees on his side, perhaps in case he had to climb or Ren tried to drop the snow down on top of him. Hux would be able to hole up there for a little while, at least before Ren dragged him out. Dragging him on the ground by the collar would be more practical, but Ren loved the idea of hoisting the General over his shoulder as if he were the hard won spoils of war and showing off his ‘prize’ to the masses.

They had submitted their ‘weapons’ for inspection. Provided they did not hit each other with anything other than snow, they could have one nonlethal tool. Ren had chosen a metal shovel initially, which after some deliberation had been replaced with a plastic one. Hux had chosen a small blade used for slicing through seals on boxes, which was in the process of being blunted down.

The General looked tired. He had probably not wasted a second preparing. Ren grinned from behind his mask as his new shovel was handed to him and Hux accepted his blunted seal cutter. The whole of Starkiller Base had gathered to watch the proceedings, cramming into makeshift stands. Cameras had been set up to project a live holofeed to those who were not fortunate enough to witness the event in person.

Phasma stood between them, facing the stands as Ren and Hux glared each other down. She announced in a clear voice, “The fight will begin shortly. Both parties shake hands before taking your positions.”

Ren and Hux clasped hands, both squeezing hard. Ren’s grip was stonger, and he delighted in squishing Hux’s gloved fingers. Not hard enough to break them, just hard enough that it was clear that if he wanted to, Ren could crush the fragile digits in his fist. Hux seemed to be biting back a wince. Ren decided that was all he would get from the General, for now, and released his hand. He delighted in watching Hux turn, trying to discreetly shake out his hand as he walked away.

Ren went to the top of his hill, looking over at Hux who mounted his precious little ice castle. Like a princess, Ren thought. He watched Hux standing in the cold, tired, pink-faced, already a little out of breath judging from the uneven white puffs coming from his mouth. His greatcoat was done up to his chin. Ren calculated how best to remove it before tossing the General into a snow bank.

Phasma fired a flare gun. That was their cue to begin. Ren waited in his full armour on his snow hill, staring across at Hux. Hux stared back, then slowly, deliberately, turned on his heels and delicately stepped off the ledge and down into his little castle, out of view. Ren’s eyes narrowed. He had been hoping for some fight before Hux made his inevitable retreat. So he would have to drag the General out of his fort first. Ren scowled as he made his descent down his hill and clambered out of his trench. Damn Hux and his cowardliness.

There was a crack and the ground gave out from under him. Ren dropped a good seven feet, enough to contain his full height before crashing into the bottom of a pitfall. He hit hard frozen earth and heard muffled laughter form outside. His face burned with embarrassment. Hux would pay dearly for this. In a rage, Ren pulled himself out of the pitfall and back into the field.

He was furious now, charging ahead, only to fall into another pit. He let out a roar of frustration as he climbed out again. Hux’s pits and walls would not keep him safe forever. When Ren got his hands on him he would make Hux pay. He would drop the General into his own pit then bury him alive.

Just as Ren climbed out he heard a loud snap followed by a sharp groaning. A tree, just behind Hux’s castle snapped up. It had been covered in snow. Ren had no time to react as he was thrown backwards under the weight of a heavy mass of snow and knocked backwards, right back into the pit. He let out a howl of frustration. Ren was going to beat Hux’s smug face in with a plastic shovel. There was no way Ren was going to allow the day to finish any other way.

As Ren climbed up he spotted Hux, standing on top of his castle, looking aloof. The General walked to the edge before gingerly sitting down and dangling his legs over the side of his fort.

Ren snarled at him and charged, slipping his way through Hux’s icy trench. He felt something connect with his helmet. Looking up he saw Hux lazily tossing snowballs at him. Ren shouted upwards, “Come down and fight like a man!”

“I am fighting like a man, as opposed to this Neanderthal act you’re putting on,” Hux called back coolly, “It’s called using one’s brain. A practice I highly recommend.”

Ren slipped through the second trench and stood at the top. There was barely room for his feet and he gripped the castle wall for support. Hux had climbed over the top of the wall again. Ren began to skirt his way around it. Once he was behind the wall, he would have Hux. He would bash his dainty cheekbones in with a shovel, toss him in a pit, bury him alive, then drag him out by his collar, pummel him back into the ground with his fist and-

Hux’s fist suddenly collided with his chest. Ren fell backwards into the ice trench. So Hux had made little traps in the walls of his fort. Perfect. Hux called through the hole, “Look, the only way in here is to go around one of the edges. It’s going to take you all day at this rate.”

“Come out and fight!” shouted Ren, slipping his way towards the edge of the castle. He would have to continue through the treacherous trench. Hux would just push him off of the wall if he tried that way.

“Do you think I’m stupid? No. I’m not going out there,” Hux called from the inside, his voice distant in the open air, “I try not to engage enemies where they have the advantage.”

Ren spied the edge of the castle wall. It was built just within the bounds of their field, he would barely have room to squeeze around it. He gritted his teeth. That coward Hux might have a trap, ready to push him out of bounds and win the fight on a technicality. Coward, coward, coward, kill him…

Skirting around the edge took time, and to the General’s credit he had not sprung any traps. Yet. Who could tell what new lows Hux would stoop to? Ren slipped around the edge into the fort, ready to spring on Hux.

The General was nowhere in sight. There was a hole in the ground, a rope leading out of it. Ren’s eyes followed the rope into the woods. He heard a soft sawing sound. Then the rope snapped.

“Kriff-”

A deafening roar sounded through the woods. In the distance an entire treeline sprang up. _No_ , Ren thought. Hux could not have pinpointed exactly how to launch a mountain of snow on top of him using trees in order to strike his precise location.

A mountain of snow landing right on top of Kylo Ren told him that Hux had done exactly that.

It took ages to pull himself out of the snow. He scrambled to the top of Hux’s castle. He spotted the General in the middle of the pitch, still out of breath, red hair and black uniform clashing brilliantly against the snow. A small hole in the snow showed that he had built a little escape hatch on the exact spot Ren had pointed out to him the previous day.

Ren hurled himself off the wall, clearing both trenches with a jump that likely would have broken athletic records in several planetary systems.

He approached Hux, cautious. He could not afford to fall into another pit. Not now. He stumbled forward, exhausted from digging himself out of pits and mountains of snow. Hux did not move. Ren was inches from him, and was finally shocked to discover that this was the end of the General’s traps. His hands finally gripped the collar of Hux’s great coat. He lifted the General up. In Ren’s adrenaline fueled fury Hux weighed practically nothing. Kylo grinned behind his mask. Hux turned his face away and closed his eyes in anticipation of violence.

Then Phasma fired a flare gun. Their time was up.

Kylo kept his grip on Hux, not bothering to lower the General as he stared in disbelief at the scoreboard. Though Hux’s traps had not counted for points, the petty, pathetic snowballs he tossed earlier had. The General had won the game.

“Well, if we’re finished with our little farce,” Hux choked out, “I’d like to get back to work.”

Kylo snarled and tossed Hux forcefully backwards into the snow. He landed with a thud, his body fully sinking into the snow beneath him. Kylo stomped over, his feet planted on either side of Hux’s waist, raising the shovel aloft over his head, ready to bring it down. Hux raised an arm to shield his face as Phasma rushed over.

“Sir, the event has ended. All hands will be returning to their scheduled duties,” said Phasma.

“He cheated!” Kylo shouted, pointing down at Hux accusingly with his shovel.

“The structure has no metal or electronics. The trees and pitfalls were in bounds on my side of the pitch,” said Hux, “I stayed within regulations.”

Kylo raised the shovel again and Phasma grabbed it, holding it to keep the knight from bashing Hux’s skull in. Kylo felt rage building within him. Someone, something would pay for this. He let go of the shovel, causing Phasma to stumble back, not expecting the knight to let go. Kylo dropped to his knees on top of Hux’s chest, knocking the wind from his lungs with the weight and force of his descent. He gripped Hux’s collar again, “You would never have won without your tricks! Coward! If you had faced me I would have snapped you in half!”

Hux’s face was turned away, eyes closed, bracing himself. Pathetic. Kylo thrust him back into the snow and stormed off. Hux had humiliated him. He had probably planned this from the start. He never should have accepted the stupid challenge. He stalked towards his quarters, glaring at everyone he passed, daring them to test his patience and say something. When he reached his quarters he retrieved his Lightsaber. Something was going to pay. He stomped back through the base, out into the field. Hux was gone.

It figured that he would run Kylo thought as he began to hack at the stupid ice castle.

* * *

 

Kylo had been expecting a gloating message, but the only one that came was a curt, polite invitation for Kylo Ren to join General Hux in his quarters. It had been eight hours since the fight, close to midnight on the massive base, and Kylo had calmed, slightly. He was still furious with Hux, furious with the laughter, furious with the whole damned thing. The battle-lust had left him though. He no longer desired to dash Hux’s brains out with a shovel. Hit him perhaps, but not beat him to death.

The invitation had come with a passcode for Ren to let himself into Hux’s quarters, which he did, not bothering to knock. The room was dark, save the light of a datapad, which projected a small orange hologram of a fire. Kylo spotted Hux and his eyes narrowed behind his helmet. The General was sipping from a mug of something hot, glancing at the orange flickering light of the pad, bundled up in regulation fatigues with a blanket over his shoulders. Kylo also noticed his ears were covered by gauze and medical tape.

Kylo stalked forward, “I want a rematch.”

“You’ll have to wait a year,” said Hux stoically, “And you’ll have to have the crew approve and vote for it.”

“I want a rematch, now,” said Kylo more commandingly, “No tricks, no traps.”

“Of course not. I don’t fight battles I have no chance of winning, unless the situation begs it,” said Hux calmly, “I had to arm wrestle Captain Phasma last year. I trust you can imagine how that ended.”

“You humiliated me!” snapped Kylo.

“Sit down,” said Hux, sliding a mug in his direction, “Would you like it if I backed out or made childish accusations and challenges had fortunes been reversed? There was a chance you might have beat me.”

“And here I thought you had the whole thing plotted out,” said Kylo sarcastically, glowering downwards.

“I had no guarantee you would approach the way you did. If you’d found my tunnel and cut my rope, you’d have buried me alive,” replied Hux, sipping the steaming contents of his mug. With dull surprise he added, “Goodness, I might have been killed by my own makeshift catapult. That would have been unfortunate.”

If Hux was trying to make him feel better, it was not working. However, he was being honest. Kylo could sense it, and the mental image of Hux being killed by his own ridiculous contraptions was an entertaining one. He begrudgingly dropped down on the couch beside Hux. He could smell the drink through the filter on his mask. Cocoa? Glancing at the datapad he noticed Hux idly staring at the fire, sipping his chocolate drink and looking tired. How...sweet…and incredibly unlike the icy General.

“What’s wrong with your face? Aside from being hideous,” demanded Kylo.

“Frostbite. I spent the whole damned daily cycle in the snow,” said Hux, after a moment’s hesitation, “The gauze is soaked in bacta. I should be able to take it off in ten, twenty minutes, perhaps.”

So Hux had spent a full day in the snow, throwing himself completely and whole heartedly into the fight. If he had not been so insufferable during the actual proceedings, Kylo might have been strangely endeared by his efforts. Hux was no warrior, he was no knight, but at least he took fighting seriously, even if it was a childish mock battle.

Kylo took off his helmet. He could not drink the cocoa, which smelled more tempting by the second, with the helmet on. He set it aside and lifted the mug to his lips. It was just at the right temperature to warm him from head to toe while still being drinkable. He watched the fire on Hux’s pad, “You could always light a real one instead of pretending.”

Hux glared through the corner of his eyes, “You are not setting fire to anything on this base.”

“Fine,” said Kylo. He tugged on Hux’s blanket, yanking it halfway off his shoulder. Moving in slightly he was able to cover them both. He leaned against Hux, close enough to crush him, if he felt like it, “I still have to make you pay. I’ve sworn to avenge myself against anyone who slights me.”

“How frightening,” said Hux flatly, “I’m still making you polish my boots.”

Kylo leaned over and placed a gloved hand on the General’s thigh, his voice barely above a whisper, “You have to pay for your insolence General.”

Hux quizzically glanced down at the hand on his leg, then at Kylo’s face, before repeating the process twice. The first time he looked up he seemed confused, then irritated, then sudden comprehension as he realized what was happening. The General might have been a master of strategy, but it took him forever to pick up on the fact that he was being hit on. It had frustrated Kylo at first, yet somewhere along the line it had become an amusing trait. It was at least something slightly strategic at which his competence surpassed the General’s. No matter how many times he made a discreet proposition, Hux always reacted like a clueless virgin. Likely a consequence of devoting himself wholeheartedly to nothing but military life.

“So…” said Kylo, letting his hand slowly trail upwards, “Will you comply with or resist your punishment?”

“I’m not letting you off the hook. You’re still going to polish my boots,” repeated Hux dryly, though his breath hitched slightly as he added, “On the bridge.”

Kylo shoved Hux brutishly on his side before clambering on top of him. The General let out an undignified grunt as Kylo forced him onto his back. His blue eyes met his dark ones as Hux glared, nervous but curious, daringly even, as he often looked during their intimate hate-fueled sessions together. His hair had been mussed, falling over his eyes and back against the arm of the couch. Hux looked better that way, angry, disheveled, and pinned down, helpless between Kylo’s arms. Right where he belonged. The knight removed the gauze with a sudden, swift tug, making Hux hiss as some stray red hairs came off with it.

Kylo slipped a hand under Hux’s shirt, “I did say I would put that pretty voice of yours to good use.”

Hux looked up at Kylo, his brow cocked, questioning.

Kylo resisted the urge to roll his eyes, “You’re going to scream for me. So hard and so long that when you give your orders tomorrow you’ll remember the way I made you beg tonight as your voice rasps out the words. Straightforward enough for you, General?”

Hux shrugged contemptuously, allowing none of the tentative heat that Kylo felt purr through him show on his face, “You’re welcome to try, but I won’t make it easy for you, Ren.”

Kylo found Hux’s nipple under his shirt and pinched lightly. Hux pretended he had not gasped, trying to cover the noise with an indifferent sigh. He aimed to kiss Hux on the lips, but the General turned his head sharply so Kylo only caught the corner of his mouth instead, briefly tasting dried chocolate that Hux forgot to wipe away. His petty resistance made Kylo grin, “I’ve come to expect nothing less from you, General.”

* * *

 

The sight of Kylo Ren, sitting cross legged at General Hux’s feet, would have been completely incomprehensible and unexpected on any other day. It took very little time for the officers on the command bridge to spread word that the two men must have made some sort of bet, which Ren had lost. The knight, for his part, ignored them. He ignored all their sniggering, the amused, giddy thoughts and feelings at Ren finally facing punishment of some sort, and worked on polishing Hux’s boots diligently. Having finished one pair already, he was working on the ones the General was currently wearing. Occasionally he would pinch Hux’s calve or thigh sharply, earning a light kick from Hux when the General thought none of his staff were watching.

Ren looked up and watched Hux. His ears were still a little frost bitten, as was the tip of his nose. The General lightly sipped on a cup of lemon tea and returned the knight’s stare contemptuously. Ren chuckled slightly and asked, “So General, how’s your ‘cough’?”

Hux said nothing, taking another sip of tea quickly. Ren prodded his leg roughly, “Well?”

Hux set the cup aside and spoke, his usual smooth and unctuous voice reduced to nothing but a breathy whisper, “Better, thank you.”

Ren smiled behind his mask and pinched behind Hux’s knee again.


End file.
